


Devil Like Me

by Doot



Category: inFAMOUS: Second Son
Genre: Comfort is eventual, Conduits, Curdun Cay, Delsin Rowe (Mention), Flashbacks, How Do I Tag, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Characters in a Canon Setting, Power Dynamics, everything is not okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doot/pseuds/Doot
Summary: Luca comes to terms with his abilities, with some assistance. It's hard being a Conduit, especially while you work for the D.U.P.
Relationships: Luca Montello/Lucas Mathis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Devil Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for my friend @Conduiitz on twitter!! This is a multi-chapter fic, so this is the first part! ;o;

_ “I know you can get me out of this, you did before.”  _

_ “ _ Before _. Not this time. I warned you not to look for me. Now we’re both fucked.”  _

Softness surrounds him, a blanket over his legs to fight off the slight chill of the flat. He was always told to leave the heat down to save on electricity, and with the pair of them close together, only his toes froze. It was a small sacrifice, even now. They’re playing a game against one another, Lucas always choosing the option to be player two though it’s his console. Luca was always losing, so it didn’t matter much to him what their player orientation was. The race ended, the victory whistle sounding, and a Lucas smiling ear to ear greeted Luca.

“That’s the fourth time, Luca. Ready to call it quits?” Luke taunted, knowing all too well that he would continue to win should Luca agree. 

“You say it like I’ve lost every round! I know I won at least once. At least!” Luca waved his hand, trying to shoo Luke away. “I’m not the one that spends all my time staring at screens anyway, nerd. There’s more to the world than Mario Kart.” 

“Look me in the eye and tell me that the last thing you ate wasn’t ice cream. Go on, I’ll wait,” Luke watched Luca immediately turn his head away, preferring to look outside than toward the man beside him. “You can’t. So quit complaining about me spending time on games when you couldn’t even keep your tamagotchi alive for a week.” 

Their bickering continued well into the night, small squabbles that meant nothing at all. There was never harshness to be had, no. Those days were far behind the both of them. There was comfort where they were, though scars remained. Luke would never speak of the nights Luca woke with glass shredding his skin, tears down his face. Luca would never question every light being off inside the flat, preferring candlelight than hear the hum of bulbs. No, they wouldn’t dare. 

But harshness would only stay so far behind, and Augustine always had her eyes on the pair. How could she not? Conduits running amok while she was struggling to maintain order was simply not permitted. Every conduit, Prime or not, had to be watched. Had to obey. Had to be controlled. Delsin Rowe was a significant thorn in her side, but there were others still. Eugene, Abigail, Lucas, and now her favored Luca. The loss of power was a harsh blow, one she wouldn’t heal from in the time she had. It was a mortal blow, to put it plainly. 

There’s a cold feeling around his wrists, a heaviness accompanied. His ears are ringing, vision blurred. There’s parts of him that feel sick, others numb, and it’s a horrible combination. He doesn’t remember coming here, wherever “here” is. There’s the sound of metal against stone, and his skin crawls. Though his mind may not recall, his body does. There is a chill in the air, and he immediately tries to wrap his arms around his torso. Something hard presses against his chest instead, scuffed yellow metal forces his eyes to focus. The emblem of the Department of Unified Protection stares back at him with demand, with authority, with the truth. He was back in Curdun Cay, but it was different. There should be armor on his body, a gun on his hip. The discomfort of his boots he knew well enough, seeing as he must’ve walked for miles in them each day. Stark white tennis shoes are laced onto his feet, bright orange pants accenting them in a disgusting sort of way. The feeling of the fabric makes his skin crawl and stomach turn. Was this the truth, or another nightmare? Was he back inside Curdun, even with Augustine overthrown? He could recall the debrief from the US Military, how they were dismissing all armed personnel and taking custody of the  _ bio-terrorists _ still imprisoned inside the facility. They were to go home, continue their lives, act like none of this ever happened. But how could he, when he still felt the needles press into his skin? How holographic angels rained pixelated hellfire down onto him? How he felt Augustine force him to awaken his abilities, how he was no longer another simple soldier boy. 

As his mind ponders, he sees a familiar figure open the door to his cell. Bright white and yellow stands before him, rifle held to the side as they stand over him. Luca stands slowly, solemnly, choosing now to play along with this dream his mind had created. Outside of his cell, he looks at the facility before him. This was an area he hadn’t seen before, but that came as no surprise. Security clearance had only permitted him to traverse certain areas. It wasn’t often he chose to wander, ‘less he saw something unsightly. Augustine and her generals all had their own dirt to sweep, often with the aid of the inmates. Names were spoken, and Luca had met a handful of them, but rumors only grew. 

“Forward,  _ traitor _ , the boss wants a word with you,” The soldier barks, shoving Luca forward with the butt of the rifle. The word “traitor” forces his mind to stop, and he nearly stops to question what the soldier meant. Who did he betray? What did he do wrong? He was a good soldier, he always did as commanded. Wasn’t that what she wanted, obedience? Wasn’t that enough for her? Where did he fail? All the tests he was forced into, all the pain he caused, only to be branded as a traitor? “Want that uniform stained red? I told you to move!” The soldier pushes him again, forcing him to stumble and fall to the floor. The weight on his wrists doing him no favors in keeping his balance, and the concrete met him with haste. 

“That’s enough, Thompson. It should be obvious he isn’t here. You remember what he went through yesterday? Ain’t easy waking the Primes.”  _ So that’s when it is.  _ The man walking toward the two wears a neat charcoal uniform, his head shaved. One of the colonels, it seems, had come to meet them halfway. Luca never paid them much mind, they always seemed to be in a hurry. Never had time for soldiers like him, the feeling was mutual. 

Luca recalls the Awakening, a simple name the victims referred to it as. Their lives were altered by the gene, but were none the wiser of its existence. They could have gone years without ever knowing, and some might still be alive if Augustine and her doctors never meddled with the natural order of things. Did it matter, though? This was his mind forcing him to relive the days following, which were a bit of a blur anyway. The gap would be filled, and he could carry on. He would wake in his flat, Luke surely having stolen all the blankets, but he wouldn’t mind. What difference did it make to be back in Curdun Cay when he knew the thing now sat vacant and frozen? A piece of history that should be erased, but couldn’t be. The pain of conduits would stand immortalized, a fresh wound that none dared ignore. Conduits  _ are  _ present,  _ are  _ living,  _ are  _ free. Luca existed in spite of those, his liberation given by the hand of Delsin Rowe. He remembered the day as clear as when he got his powers, how could he forget? 

“Montello- eyes up,” Spoke the colonel. “Boss wanted you to be coherent, not just conscious. She’s got a lot hanging on you, so you better prove you’re useful.” Luca can barely wrap his head around what the colonel was talking about. The Boss was Augustine, there was no doubt. Augustine was the one obsessed with waking Primes to their powers. It was a ploy she used to prove to the government she was still useful to them. The impending threat of new Bio-Terrorists constantly popping up, just so the D.U.P. could keep the lights on. It was almost admirable, her stubborn resourcefulness, until Luca was on the receiving end. 

“What day is it?” Luca’s voice came slow, hoarse and rough, brows furrowed as he heard himself. “Feels like I’ve been out a while.” 

“July seventeenth. Your- uh-  _ Awakening  _ was a few weeks back,” 

It seems his mind wanted to torture him with reliving the past. How long had it been since he last thought of his Awakening? It wasn’t a fond memory, so it wasn’t often he would revisit it. Why should he? There’s a reason he hasn’t gotten his flu shot this year. 

The conversation is cut short following the answer from the colonel, and Luca is brought into a familiar elevator. The keycard held on the hip of the colonel is swiped, allowing additional access to Curdun that Luca could only dream of. Curdun Cay was nothing short of a fortress, and he knew well enough there would be secrets kept under lock and key. The queen of the castle held the keys as well, and she wasn’t handing copies out to anyone that asked. 

It would only make his escape that much more difficult, but not impossible.

Stepping outside, Luca was ushered forward into what looked like a massive arena. Towers made of concrete stood tall in defiance, while a large screen projected a clock. There was a command center, and a familiar voice soon echoed in the arena. 

“Luca Montello, I’m so glad you could join us. It is good to see you back on your feet, soldier, and I hope you don’t hold any grudges. That would be a bit... unsightly, though not unsurprising,” He could almost picture the thin smile on Augustine’s face as she finished her greeting. “I’m certain you’ve heard the bio-terrorists here speak of this arena, Miss Walker was the first to finish it successfully. Perhaps you will be the second?” 

Luca’s skin crawls as she poses her question, as if he had any choice in the matter. He saw those in the infirmary, beaten and bloodied like they’d walked through hell and back. It seems he, too, would make that trek. 

“With all due respect, ma’am, this arena is made for Bio-Terrorists. I don’t have their abilities.” He swallows, realizing he was no longer the simple soldier boy. The heavy metal around his wrists begged to differ his doubt. 

Her laugh echoes, mechanical and fuzzy through the speakers. “You were always my favorite, and even more now that my plan worked,”  _ Her plan. What was it? Why was he here?  _ “You will fight, Luca, with your newfound abilities. Don’t worry, you won't be fighting against your fellow soldiers. An inmate here agreed to my deal, so they’ll be nothing more than holograms. Good luck, Montello.” 

A shrill siren sounded, alerting him of an oncoming wave. A small beep is heard, dropping the device from his wrists. The screen displaying the clock- no, a timer- reset to zero and began counting upward, judging to see how long he could last. Blue spectres of D.U.P. soldiers soon turned corners, flooded the towers, stood proud on walkways as he attempted to prepare himself. There were no powers, no superhuman abilities to be seen. Was this still part of her test, or the aftermath? Was he still her soldier, or her pawn? Were they ever different? 

Gunfire draws him from his thoughts, loud booms that sound all too real. He considers begging with her, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. There was no changing her mind. Luca watches the holograms run toward him, taking precious ground as he grapples with his reality. Commands are shouted, mechanical and fuzzy in the same pitch she spoke in before. They’re telling him to get down on his knees, to surrender, to give up. Would it be possible for him to surrender to something made of pixels? Their orders turn to violence, gunfire sounding once again, and bullets he thought were fake now pepper his skin. He feels them rip and tear through flesh, and he cries out in pain and tries to run. Legs carry him a short distance before he trips and falls. Luca drags himself behind cover, watching through a window to see if they were advancing. He lifts his head to peek through the window as more shots are fired, shattering the glass of the window. 

Something comes over him in that moment. It felt as though he had walked in the desert for weeks and had just found an oasis. The pool of water at his feet, beautiful and clean and clear. It isn't long before he plunges his hand down into the small pond to bring that cool clarity to his lips. As his body acts, he feels a sharp pain in his hands. The shattered glass had dug into his skin, blood coating the shards. He recoils, and in the same few seconds, the pain subsides. His weeping flesh no longer shouts in agony, the wounds now closed. The disappointment he feels in himself, knowing Augustine was right, and seeing how his body so quickly embraced being a Conduit. There is shame in his actions, and fear and anxiety and sheer desperation as he feels the equivalent of an adrenaline rush. His body moves before his mind can, and it isn't long until he’s running once again. Feet carry him forward as his mind reels with the obvious fact, the one he wanted to ignore for so long. This is what he was, what he was always meant to be. The word dances at the tip of his tongue, pulls at the edges of his lips, desperate to be spoken into existence. There are parts of him that wish he could swallow it down and live in crude ignorance, to continue his life as it was before, though he knows well enough that his life prior is no more. This was his rebirth. 

This is his ascension. 

Glass like teeth rip and tear through his skin, slick with crimson yet lethal all the same. Holograms close around his position, and he releases the fear and anguish in one fluid motion. Power he only saw second-hand, power he could only ever dream of, now surges to life. Arms tuck into his torso, only for them to stretch out just as fast, a cacophony of shards launching from his skin, deadly shrapnel that posed a threat to those around. If they had been real, their lives would have ended in that moment. Fear begins to form a knot in his stomach, Luca looking down to his hands to understand what he had just done. He trembles, watching more of the glass push through the skin on his palm. 

“There it is, Montello. You’ve unlocked your true potential,” Laughs Augustine. “A little rough around the edges, but it’s nothing we can’t polish. Return to the platform, we’ll continue another day.” 

Mindlessly, he obeys. He doesn’t think to disregard the command, his thoughts clamoring over each other trying to comprehend what he had done. Of course, it was possible for a Prime to awaken to their abilities in stressful situations. The Conduit gene could slumber forever without showing a single sign of its existence. If his gene was never discovered, he wouldn’t be facing what he was now. How different would his life be? Would he be back on patrol, as he was time and time again, or would he be out on the field? Would the Conduit gene have awoken then? Would he be facing the same outcome he was now? 

He’s escorted to his cell, the same yellow contraption as before locked firmly around his wrists. Luca could feel the ache in his bones, the longing for that power again. Briefly, he thinks of Hank Daughtry, who had acted as hot-headed as the smoke he commanded. The thought creates a sour taste in his mouth, disgusted with the possibility of what would still be in store for him. Stomach uneasy, he rests on the cot in his cell. Eyes closed, he imagines the feeling of power once again, the feeling of freedom in its purest form.


End file.
